


Alive Again

by TexasRevoFan (Lemonsaresweet)



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bass' fake execution, F/M, Smut, back from the dead, sex in the safe house
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 12:19:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6956215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lemonsaresweet/pseuds/TexasRevoFan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bass is at the safe house recovering from his fake execution, when he gets a visit from Charlie. The two of them confront the feelings that have been building between them, as Bass tries to understand why Charlie saved him, and she finds a way to show him the answer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alive Again

Bass looked up but didn’t move when he heard the door to the safe house open and close. Whoever his visitor was, they weren’t bothering to be stealthy, which meant it probably wasn’t someone trying to kill him. Though he’d hardly have the energy to fight back even if it was. He was still basically bedridden, recovering from his fake execution a day and a half ago. 

Charlie stepped through the doorway to his room, her tread light on the floorboards. The late afternoon sun streaming through the windows cast wavy shadows across her body as she walked toward him. Through his exhaustion, Bass appreciated, as he always did, just how radiant she was. Her blue eyes fixed on him with concern, and it made him feel ashamed. He didn't deserve her compassion. 

“Brought you food,” she explained, indicating the bag she held in her hand, then setting it on the ground near the foot of the bed. Charlie had been worried about Bass all day and had finally been able to slip away to check on him. For some reason, she didn’t want her mom or Miles to know that she was going to see Bass. The fact that she’d wanted him alive so that he could help them fight the Patriots was one thing. They didn’t need to know that her motivation went much deeper than that. 

“Thanks,” Bass replied, his voice hoarse. He swung his legs out from under the covers to sit up on the edge of the bed. He tried to look up at Charlie, but stars exploded in his vision. He buried his face in his hands, breathing in and out deeply.

“You okay?” Charlie asked warily, unsure what to do. 

Bass’ throat closed up with emotion. His head had cleared, but he kept his face covered for a few more seconds as he composed himself. For Charlie to be here, on her own, actually caring about how he was doing, was almost more than he could handle. 

“Yeah,” he finally said gruffly. “I’m fine.” He paused, then added, “‘Cause of you.” Charlie said nothing, so he felt compelled to add, “Thank you.” It was so inadequate, it frustrated him. How do you thank the person who is the reason you’re alive instead of dead? Especially when that person, of all people, should have wanted the opposite. 

Charlie shrugged off his thanks. “You did the same for me.” It was true, even if not the whole truth. 

Even all these weeks later, Bass’ adrenaline spiked at the memory of what had nearly happened to her in Pottsboro. “That was different,” he said. “You’re…” 

“Not different,” she interrupted him. “We’re not. Fighting, killing. We’ve all done what we’ve had to, to survive.” As she spoke, she stepped closer to him, so her legs were nearly touching his as she stood before him on the bed. 

Bass clenched his fists in response to her words. It was the last thing he deserved to hear her say, but at the same time, it was everything to him. Her forgiveness, her understanding. If that’s what this was. But surely she couldn’t have meant… 

“Your family,” he reminded her, looking up to meet her eyes. “Danny… Ben…” Saying their names out loud felt like sacrilege. Danny, whom he only knew as someone who died, who had meant the world to Charlie. Ben, whom he’d grown up with, been friends with, never wanted to see hurt. Bass forced himself to say their names out loud, to remind her of who he was. What he’d done. 

“Stop,” Charlie commanded him. Hearing Bass say the names of her father and brother, she could hear the pain in his voice, pain that mirrored that in her heart. She didn’t want him to say what she knew came next. 

“I’m sorry,” he said anyway, looking down. He had so much to atone for. Those two short words, “I’m sorry,” had been his last words on this earth. Should have been his last words, he corrected himself, if not for the woman standing in front of him now. 

“Stop,” Charlie said again. “Don’t say you’re sorry when it wasn’t your fault.” Bass shook his head slightly, closing his eyes and pursing his lips in agony. In his better moments, he could almost believe that. That being in command of the military that caused their deaths didn’t make them his fault. But when he was with Charlie, he felt the heavy weight of blame resting on his shoulders, and he couldn’t forgive himself. 

Seeing his reaction to her words, Charlie raised her hand up to rest on Bass’ cheek. His beard felt coarse on her soft palm, and she cupped his jaw gently, to calm him, to convey with her touch what he didn’t seem to believe when she spoke. She understood his regret. She wanted to take it away from him. She didn’t hate him. 

He still wouldn’t look at her. “Bass,” she tried softly. She saw his breath hitch at her use of his nickname, but he didn’t move. Feeling like she needed to reach him, to make him understand, Charlie moved even closer. She put her hands lightly on Bass’ shoulders and nudged his arms to the side with her knees as she crawled into his lap, straddling him on the bed. 

He looked up at her at last. Fear mingled with hope and want in his eyes. Charlie relished the feel of his body beneath hers, warm and strong and very much alive. The devastation she’d felt when she'd thought he was going to die, when she’d thought he was dead, still stuck with her. This reassurance of Bass alive beneath her was satisfying, addictive. She wanted to grab onto him and not let go, a fact that scared her but was undeniable. 

Bass kept his palms flat on the bed beside Charlie’s legs, looking at her, waiting for her to act next. He wanted to touch her, to do so much more, but he didn’t dare. Didn’t dare allow himself to assume this was something it wasn’t, only to have it thrown back in his face. Charlie had a look of wonder in her eyes as she shifted on top of him, and she was so damn beautiful he thought his heart might break from it. 

Sitting astride Bass, Charlie leaned forward and pressed her lips to his softly. She wanted to convey with her kiss not only her own feelings. She wanted Bass to know she was sorry for all the suffering Miles had caused him, was still causing him. To apologize for her mom stopping them from rescuing him. To make up for the fact that she herself had tried to kill him once, before she’d really known him. 

Bass allowed her to kiss him for a second, then pulled away, breathing shakily, their mouths nearly touching. He still didn’t get it, Charlie could tell. Didn’t trust that she wanted him alive, needed him alive, needed to feel him being alive. Beneath her, in front of her… inside her. Charlie closed her eyes briefly at the thought. She’d thought about it constantly since she’d learned he survived the execution, and every cell in her body was screaming for it, for him. 

She leaned forward again and kissed him more firmly, deeply. This time, Bass didn’t resist. He kissed her back with equal force, with passion and need and heat. He finally accepted what was happening, moving his hands to Charlie’s thighs to pull her down tighter against him, to feel her body in his arms. His cock responded, hardening as Charlie pressed into him, her tongue moving against his, her hands clinging to his shoulders. 

Charlie was offering him what he had no right to want, let alone take. What she had no reason to give, let alone want. But it seemed she did. She slowed the pace of their kisses, moving her hands down to his pants. Bass groaned into her mouth as she popped the button and lowered the zipper of his jeans, pulling his cock out to stroke him. He was nearly mad with want, desperate to know what she would do, how far she would take this. 

Bass’ cock felt huge, hot and hard in her hand. Charlie’s core tightened in anticipation of what was next. She felt herself getting wet, ready for him. She stroked him a few more times, then backed off his lap. Bass watched her, his mouth partly open, his expression still cautious but now undeniably aroused. Charlie undid her pants and kicked them and her boots aside. Her tank top she left on. She met Bass’ eyes as she pulled down her panties, making sure he saw what she was doing. Bass’ breath came in ragged pants as she revealed herself to him, his eyes fixating on the curls between her legs. 

She stepped toward him again, and Bass quickly shoved his pants off his legs, letting them drop to the floor, giving more room to his achingly hard cock. Charlie climbed back on his lap, her legs around his, and he spread his thighs to force hers further apart, too. He needed to be inside her so badly, but he leashed himself, to let her be in control as she settled with her mound against his dick. 

Charlie raised herself up, positioning Bass’ hard cock at her entrance. This was it. This was what she’d been wanting, needing, for longer than she’d even been fully aware of it. Since she’d realized that Bass was a man, not a monster. A man she cared for. A man she had wept for. A man who had come back for her: in the woods with the bounty hunter, in Pottsboro. Even back from the dead. Everyone left her. He came back. 

With that thought, Charlie lowered herself slowly, savoring every second as Bass’ cock entered her, stretched her, filled her. He moaned as she did, and the sound of his arousal made her even wetter. Once he was buried to the hilt inside her tight heat, she began moving, rocking on his cock, wanting to keep every inch of him inside her. 

Bass grasped Charlie’s ass as she moved, fucking up into her deeper, needing more of her, all of her. He realized suddenly that he couldn’t remember the last time a woman chose him like this. The last time anyone really wanted him, as a man, not just as a customer. Charlie knew exactly who he was, everything he’d done, and still, she wanted him. He knew that for them, this meant much more than her accepting him into her body. For Charlie to fuck him, to allow him to fuck her, was a declaration. He was hers. She was his. There would be no going back. 

Charlie felt her orgasm building as she rode Bass’ cock steadily. She felt so full, his cock thick inside her, and so satisfied by his raw power and strength around her as he held her, pounded into her. He moved one hand between her legs, giving her pressure on her clit as she tilted her hips into his thumb. “Bass,” she gasped as she climaxed around him, her body tightening and grinding down on him. “Fuck, Bass.” 

Feeling Charlie orgasming on his dick, seeing her face contort with pleasure, the raw emotion of what was happening, and Bass knew he was almost there himself. He felt himself about to come, and he knew he had no right, he should ask, but she had to know he was close, and she wasn’t moving, in fact she was pushing down on him even harder, and, fuck, her warm heat just felt too fucking good…

Bass roared as he came, his hands gripping Charlie’s hips with bruising force, his cock pulsing deep inside her, filling her with his come, marking her as his. Charlie sighed in satisfaction as the tension drained from his body, and he hazily thought that she sounded happy. He had made Charlie happy. If that wasn’t reason enough to still be alive, he didn’t know what was. 

Charlie rested her forehead in the crook of Bass’ neck for a few moments, feeling his cock softening inside her, hearing the sound of his heartbeat slowing back to a normal rate. When she got up, she felt his come sliding out of her, and she somehow felt proud, to have had him, the evidence still inside her. It was crazy, she was sure. But then she looked up and met his eyes, and the possessive glow she saw there was new and unmistakable. Yes, Bass had taken her, just as she had surely invited him to. 

Charlie pulled her clothes on, and Bass fastened his pants and stood up in front of her. He wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t want her to go, but he knew she couldn’t stay with him. The two of them shacking up in the safe house wasn’t exactly in the cards, much as he loved the idea of having her constantly by his side. Maybe someday. For now, she had to get back to her mom and Miles. He had to stay here and rest, until he was back to full health and able to protect her again. 

“Take care of yourself,” he finally said. It was what he’d really wanted to say to her at his execution, when he thought he’d never see her again, but he hadn’t thought she would accept it. Now he could tell her. To take care of herself, until he was well and could take care of her, too. She’d given him his life back. Now it belonged to her. 

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> I recently rewatched a good chunk of Season 2, and Bass' longing for connection with and understanding from someone, mostly Miles, but even Charlie, just broke my heart this time around. I tried to capture that in this fic because I think Charlie does care about and understand Bass, which is why she asked Rachel to save him, why she showed up to the execution when no one else bothered. Sigh. There is always so much more to explore with these two. 
> 
> Comments are very, very appreciated!


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